


Dancing

by LostSoftSpaceDyke



Series: 666/Super Sappy Lines Prompt Challenge [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 666 Challenge, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Historical, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Mild canon divergence, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, back at it again with the fluff, i cannot express how much this is fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 03:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostSoftSpaceDyke/pseuds/LostSoftSpaceDyke
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale sometimes meet up in dance halls to get drunk together and unwind after long weeks of mutual “thwarting”. But one thing leads to another and suddenly Aziraphale realizes that things might change for good.Sort of part of the 666 challenge (write a fic in 666 words), but using a prompt from tiptoe39's prompt list on Tumblr.





	Dancing

Dance halls were a bit of a happy middle ground for unwinding after a busy week. Aziraphale found swing dancing easy to pick up. Crowley loved the excuse to get drunk. Both of them rather enjoyed the potential for…indulgences that came with the quick pace and dark dance hall corners. It made for a comfortable, predictable night out.**  
**

Things would change eventually; this much Aziraphale was certain of. They would eventually go out of fashion just as gentlemen’s clubs and peasants’ dances had. Everything came to an end. Aziraphale just didn’t think things would change so suddenly or _like this_.

_Dear lord above, she looks beautiful. _

They’d always agreed to meet at the dance hall in order to avoid suspicion from either side. Crowley usually arrived, as she put it, fashionably late. Tonight was no exception.

It meant Aziraphale had to watch her come in, carefully taking the stem of two wine glasses between silk gloved-fingers before bringing one to her red-stained lips to take a soft sip. Crowley moved easily across the floor, swaying around dancing couples in her black heels until she came to lean against the wall mere inches from Aziraphale, offering him the other glass. “You cleaned up nice, angel.”

“Could say the same of you.” The words feel woefully inadequate when describing how Crowley looks right now. Aziraphale wants, for the first time in a long time, to run his fingers through those pinned up curls and kiss her senseless and _oh dear he’s far too drunk for this, isn’t he?_ He takes a sip of the wine anyways and notices Crowley has nearly finished her whole glass in the walk over.

“New dress. Seemed appropriate for dancing.”

Despite the sunglasses, Aziraphale can tell she’s looking around the room, picking out potential dance partners, deciding who to chat with. When she sets down her glass, Aziraphale knows Crowley has spotted someone. She’s never had any difficulty doing so. Aziraphale, on the other hand, usually comes with a partner if he intends to dance much at all. If he hasn’t brought a partner since the Blitz, well, that’s nobody’s business but his.

“Dance with me?”

Aziraphale looks back up from his wine, taking in the sight of her fully again. He wants to say yes and the part of his brain that worries about _what this might mean_ has been long since shut off by wine. “I’d be honored to.”

Had Aziraphale been sober, he might have blushed at how close dances had become. Since Aziraphale was drunk, he’d been blushing from the moment Crowley stepped through the door, therefore the added blush that accompanies an inebriated and unhelpful realization of _I could kiss her right now_ goes mostly unnoticed. He focuses on his feet, on the tempo, on literally anything but the perfect way Crowley moves in that dress. One dance becomes two, then three, then more than they can count (with a few drinks in between) until people start to filter out and it’s just them and a small handful of late-night stragglers.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, dancing most of the night like this,” Crowley finally says, breaking a near hour of comfortable silence. Here it is, the return of the banter to crack the illusion of something more.

“I’ll have you know I used to be able to dance most of the night back when balls were still held and I was rather well known for being a good partner. Shame this is the first time you asked me to dance or you might have gotten to see me-”

“Angel.”

He looks up at Crowley properly then, sees the few loose curls that have fallen from the elaborate updo, and _wants_…

“Shut up and kiss me.”

_Oh._

Were he sober, he would have realized this would completely topple the dynamic they had so carefully cultivated. But right now, in the warmth of Crowley’s touch and the dim dance-hall lights, he’s drunk enough not to care.

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are wondering what the time period for this is, I'm setting it to late 1940's, early 1950's. Post-war unwinding before the storm that is the 1960's-1980's, one could say. 
> 
> Prompt #4: "Shut up and kiss me."
> 
> The rest of the prompts are on Tumblr (https://tiredandineffable.tumblr.com/post/187120064241/super-sappy-lines-prompt-list)! Feel free to place a request for the next one. If no requests come in, I'll do them in order. I intend to do one per day until I've finished the list.
> 
> I know the 666 challenge has actual prompts for it, but I liked the idea of writing something so short but wanted to do the challenges more frequently than they were outlining. Who knows, I might overlap with the challenges they outline in the future!
> 
> As always, please leave feedback! I love the comments and reading them always makes my day!


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